


This is How Wars Start

by petyrbaealish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor Who References, F/M, Halloween, Most characters are just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaealish/pseuds/petyrbaealish
Summary: Based on a prompt for my 300 Follower Celebration on tumblr, by @janedethr:“the Starks finding out about pxs in modern AU (can either be accidental or Sansa actually bringing Petyr home for dinner) lol I love your Starks dynamics in Chaos Theory so I KNOW you’ll pull this off brilliantly!“It's Halloween, and the Starks are throwing their annual party. Sansa and Petyr have been dating in secret, and her parents are about to get quite a fright.





	This is How Wars Start

It was Saturday evening, just before dinnertime, the sky darkening with a wicked promise of events yet to come. The cool breeze slithered beneath the fallen leaves, stirring them from their neatly raked piles and into the streets and sidewalks, begging to be crunched under foot or tire. Riding along its current, one could just feel the magic hanging in the air, the scent of autumn and the tingle of excitement one always seemed to get during the holidays.

Sansa Stark no longer lived with her family, old enough to have a job and her own apartment, but tonight she returned to the place she would always call home, nerves fizzling with anticipation. It was Halloween, and the Starks had seen fit to host their annual party celebrating the occasion. Nearly everyone they knew had been invited, including many of her father’s coworkers, one of whom in particular she was excited to see.

Their relationship was still fairly new, only a few months in, and still thrilling to the core, though this was in part due to the fact that as of yet, it was still a secret. Petyr Baelish worked alongside her father at Robert Baratheon’s company, though his ties with her family extended much further. He’d once loved her mother, in fact, when they were both younger than Sansa was now, an affection that had earned him a fight with her father, and a trip to the hospital. Years later, he still bore the scar from that terrible night, though the bitterness had since faded, eclipsed by time and a new target for his heart.

Sansa had fallen for Petyr against her better judgement, irresistibly drawn to his playful smirk, the grey lining his temples that somehow only heightened his attractiveness, and the way she felt when he looked at her. When she’d started working as an intern in Robert’s company, it had been nearly impossible to stay away. Petyr was so easy to talk to, and he seemed, more than anyone, to recognize that she was more than just a pretty face. 

After months of shameless flirting, inappropriate touching, and dancing around what they both wanted, they’d found themselves alone together at The Mockingbird (his club), when Sansa had lost both her friends and her phone and panicked. Ever mindful of the goings on his club (and of her), Petyr was at her side in an instant, drawing her back to his office to gain her bearings while he notified the staff to keep an eye out for her phone and the girls she had come in with. Both losses were soon forgotten, however, when they’d started kissing, desire spurring them on just shy of fucking on his desk (unfortunately, they’d been interrupted before then, a fact remedied the next day, when they’d finally gone on their first date). 

She knew it was stupid and reckless, that he was nearly twice her age, old enough to be her father, and had once been in love with her mother, and yet somehow, none of that mattered. They were so alike, in so many ways, and they brought out both the best and worst in each other, their insatiable attraction for one another only fueling both aspects. Petyr made her feel so alive, powerful and dangerous, wicked and cunning, beautiful and wanted and loved. What they had was intoxicating, wonderful and perilous in equal measure. And she knew she’d never tire of it, nor would she want to. Every bliss had its price, and she’d happily pay it, to be in his arms.

Her parents hadn’t wanted to invite Petyr, but considering they’d invited the rest of the bigwigs in Robert’s company (her father, Ned, had grown up with Robert, and still considered the man to be like a brother to him. And of course, Ned wanted Robert at the party because of that), they’d had little choice but to. “He probably wouldn’t even show,” her mother, Cat, had reasoned. “I hardly think he’d be interested in coming to a family party, especially considering costumes are required.” Ned had been reassured by her words at the time, though he regretted it later when the RSVP card came back with the ‘yes’ box ticked. Of course, Sansa alone knew exactly why Petyr had decided to come. She’d asked him to, after all.

Of course, they couldn’t exactly spend a lot of time together at the party, considering no one knew they were dating, but Sansa was excited for him to come regardless. It would give them an excuse to be together, in public, and also help test the waters for when they eventually decided to come forward about their relationship. Not to mention, she would get to see him in costume, a perk she wasn’t about to pass up.

Petyr hadn’t been all too thrilled about the prospect of dressing up at first, but Sansa had promised him that it would be worth the effort. That, coupled with the fact that they’d chosen a costume that wasn’t too different from his usual attire, helped immensely. In the end, they’d decided on costumes that reflected their interests in Doctor Who. Not many knew it, but Petyr had grown up enamoured with the show, along with Star Wars and other geeky interests. As an adult, he still held a certain fondness for such things, helped along by Sansa’s mutual interests in fantasy and science fiction. It was one of the many things that endeared him to her, early on, the fact that both of them loved the worlds that fiction wove into their hearts, far better in fact than real life itself.

Sansa arrived a few hours earlier than the party was set to start, so that she might help her family set up. Trick or treaters were still prominent on the streets as she carefully navigated to the correct driveway, laughter ringing in the air as the costumed children went door to door in search of candy. The outside of the house was already decked out to the extreme in Halloween decor, fake tombstones littering the front lawn, along with dismembered skeletons and a body part or two. Lit jack o’ lanterns were perched on the steps leading up to the porch, and along the railings, flames flickering merrily in the night breeze, and fake bats swung from the ceiling, just waiting to tangle in her hair as she passed underneath.

Her younger brother Bran had his wheelchair parked by the steps, an enormous bowl of candy resting on his lap. His girlfriend, Meera Reed, was seated beside him, and they were both dressed, rather graphically, as frostbitten zombies. As Sansa made her way up the steps, one of the jack o’ lanterns burst into maniacal laughter, and she rolled her eyes, not startled in the least.

“You’d think Dad would get tired of that thing at some point,” she said cheerfully, snatching a twizzler from the candy bowl and ripping open the plastic.

“Not in this century,” Bran told her, looking equally exasperated. Clearly he was getting tired of the fake pumpkin cracking up every time a trick or treater ascended the steps.

“You could shut it off, you know,” Sansa said helpfully, ripping off a bit of her twizzler with her teeth.

“We tried,” Meera said sadly, unwrapping a Snickers. “Your father keeps popping outside to see how the kids react to it.”

“I’m going to find a way to get rid of it after tonight,” Bran said, looking determined.

Sansa laughed. “Good luck with that.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, laughing again when he scowled at her. “What,” she protested. “Zombies aren’t supposed to have such well coiffed hair.”

Bran was about to retort when the front door opened, revealing their father, who looked rather disappointed that it was only his daughter on the porch, and not another unfortunate victim of the cackling pumpkin. “Oh good, you’re here!” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Your mother will be thrilled. She could use some help in the kitchen.”

Ned had chosen to dress as a werewolf this year, and when Sansa joined her mother in the kitchen, she laughed when she saw that Cat had dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. Apparently they’d decided on a couple's’ costume this year. Cat was hard at work preparing all of the party food they’d decided to make this year, some treats designed with the holiday in mind, and others there simply for taste. Sansa set to work peeling grapes (eyeballs) for the bloodred chilled whipped cream salad they were meant for, a gory looking dessert, but one that tasted good nonetheless. 

The rest of her family flitted about, cleaning and adding even more Halloween decorations to the ample horror inside. Arya was driving the rest of them nuts, sneaking about dressed like a ninja and wielding a wicked looking (but fake) blade, doing her best to take them unawares. Robb and his fiancee Jeyne were out in the backyard, tending to the fire, stringing up orange lights, and setting out chairs and tables, for anyone who wished to sit outside. They were dressed as the King and Queen of Hearts, having newly been engaged, and spent more time kissing than actually getting anything done.

About a half an hour before the party was set to start, Sansa’s cousin Jon, and his wife Ygritte arrived, both dressed as vikings. Sansa was relieved to have the extra help, since Cat had clearly gone overboard in meal planning this year, and they still had so much left to do. With Jon and Ygritte, and Rickon (dressed normally save for fake arrow through the head), who’d finally returned from goofing off with his friends (he’d claimed to be too old to trick or treat, but Sansa spied a sack full of candy tucked haphazardly in a corner) they managed to get everything done just in time.

Soon, the house was full to bursting, friends, family and coworkers mingling alike among the creepy decor, drinking smoking glassfuls of spiked (and regular) punch. Robert had come, costumeless and without his family (he was currently in the midst of a nasty divorce), though nobody commented on either. He spent much of the evening grumbling to anyone who would listen about his horrible wife, downing much of the punch on his own. 

Ned manned the door the entire time, greeting each guest individually with a jovial howl and comments on their costumes. Sansa lingered nearby, nerves jangling as she waited for Petyr to arrive. A half an hour had already passed, and she was getting antsy, wondering if perhaps he’d decided against showing afterall.

She was just about to haul out her phone and text him, when someone knocked on the door and her father opened it, his giddy expression immediately fading into a frown. Sansa watched as Ned eyed the person she knew had to be Petyr, looking him up and down with distaste.

“I’m afraid you have to be wearing a costume to enter, Baelish,” her father said flatly.

“Oh, I am,” Petyr replied cheerfully, sidestepping Ned to slip inside. He was dressed as the Tenth Doctor, in one of his trademark suits (dark brown with blue pinstripes) and white Converse All-Star sneakers. As Sansa watched, he whipped out a pair of old fashioned 3D glasses, one lens blue and the other red, and popped them on, offering Ned a smirk. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?”

Ned scowled as he studied Petyr, searching for some clue that would reveal the answer. Watching Petyr’s smirk grow, and sensing she’d better intervene before her father gave into the more animalistic instincts his costume suggested, Sansa darted forward with a grin. “Doctor!”

Petyr eyed her appreciatively, taking in her fitted TARDIS dress that left very little to the imagination. “Ah, so at least your daughter has good taste,” he drawled. “Sweetling, you’ll have to stay close by me. The Doctor should never go far without his TARDIS.”

Sansa laughed as her father’s frown deepened. Still grinning, she turned to Ned and explained, “Doctor Who, Dad. The show.”

Ned grunted. “I s’pose I’ll have to take your word for it. Though you could have put more effort into a costume.” He glared at Petyr again, then startled as more guests arrived. 

In the commotion, Sansa slipped away, Petyr trailing behind her as she wove through the party. They stopped by the overflowing buffet table, chatting for a bit as they loaded up their plates, before they found seats along the room’s periphery. As they ate, they watched the other guests, commenting on their costumes, and guessing who some of the more elaborately costumed people might be. Another of her father’s coworkers (and Petyr’s), Varys, had come dressed as Cleopatra. Surprisingly, he looked absolutely stunning, turning more than a few heads in awe as he sipped his punch and talked to Robert’s brother Renly (dressed as a stag) and his boyfriend Loras (dressed as a rather flamboyantly attired knight).

When they’d finished eating, Sansa, who was having trouble resisting the urge to climb right into Petyr’s lap (he looked that good as Ten), got up and slipped out of the room, knowing he would follow her. Her first instinct was to head for the bathroom, but with so many people, it was bound to be occupied and or frequented, so instead she went for the hall closet. Though it was chilly enough to warrant a light jacket, no one had yet come wearing one, and she hoped that trend would continue, if indeed anyone else would be arriving.

The closet was larger than most typically were, with more than enough room for the both of them. Sansa pulled Petyr inside and shut the door carefully behind them, before flicking on the light. He stared at her for a moment, lips fixed in that smirk she loved so much, then reached over and switched the light back off.

“We’re more likely to be discovered, with the light on,” he explained. “It will filter through the crack at the bottom of the door, since the hall is dark.”

She nodded, biting her lip in anticipation. Gods, he looked good, even in those goofy glasses. So much like Ten, and so much like himself, and really, who could blame her for having so little self restraint? Sidling closer, she smoothed her hands up his chest, meeting his darkened gaze. “So, what did you think?”

“That I’ve never imagined the TARDIS could be so fuckable,” Petyr said, hands gripping her waist.

Sansa reached up and removed the 3D glasses, tucking them safely in his breast pocket. She licked her lips, then leaned in closer, her breath whispering against his ear. “Wanna go for a ride?”

He chuckled, the raspy sound shocking her to the core. “Are we roleplaying? Because I think you could do far better than that, sweetling.”

She pulled back, grinning. “Why don’t we put your sonic screwdriver to good use?”

Petyr’s hands slid over the curves of her ass, squeezing firmly as his eyes danced with amusement. “Will you take me out of space and time?”

Sansa nodded and dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. “I guarantee it.”

His gaze darkened and his lips crashed to hers, their tongue in cheek roleplay forgotten. Her fingers twined in his hair, tugging him closer and he pressed her back against the spare bit of wall between the coats and the door. Sansa felt her dress hiking up her thighs as she hitched one leg around his waist, drawing him closer still. The interplay of their tongues and lips were driving her mad, stirring her blood like nothing else, and yet still, she craved more, her hands scrabbling along his back before dropping to his waist, anxious for the feel of him inside her.

She was just undoing his belt when the door opened, the light from the hallway blinding as they wrenched apart. Her father was there, holding someone’s coat, features teaming with shock and the beginnings of barely repressed rage. Ned let out a strangled cry, a cross between a battle call and the despair of a dying animal, fists clenching as he twisted the coat between them. Petyr shot her a look of alarm, and made to hastily leave the closet, the better not to be cornered, but was blocked by her father before he could.

Trembling, Sansa met her father’s gaze, flinching at the disappointment she read there. Unable to stand the way he was looking at her, she turned away, biting her lip as she fought not to cry. She’d planned on revealing their relationship eventually, but not like this. Never like this. Beside her, Petyr turned as well, his look helpless as he saw how bothered she was by her father’s reaction. She could tell he wanted to comfort her, but refrained from doing so, not wanting to further enrage her father.

Behind them, Ned was taking loud, shallow breaths, and they could hear footsteps coming closer, obviously drawn by his outcry moments earlier. The party was quite loud, the chatter accompanied by Halloween themed music, but someone must have heard regardless.

“Ned?” Cat called. “Is something wrong.”

Dread filled Sansa’s heart. Oh gods. This was horrible. Halloween was certainly doing this moment justice, practically giving them a heart attack from the fear of the wrath of an angry werewolf and Little Red Riding Hood. All she’d wanted was a treat, and yet the damn holiday had given her a trick instead. 

At this moment she really wished Petyr was the Doctor, that he could whisk them away on the TARDIS, far away from this moment. But life wasn’t so kind. It never was. 

She heard the intake of breath as her mother spotted them in the closet, and inferred just what had been going on behind closed doors. This was it. They’d been caught. And now they’d have to face the music.

Sansa glanced sideways at Petyr and offered him a weak smile. He returned it, his hand twitching slightly beside her thigh, as though he’d meant to take her hand, but thought better of it. Knowing there really wasn’t any reason not to (after all, they’d just been caught doing far worse), she gratefully slipped her hand into his and they turned around, shuffling slightly awkwardly in the close quarters.

Her parents stared at them, both stone faced, eyes stormy with the rage boiling beneath. Sansa gulped and let out a shaky laugh, an awkward knee jerk reaction that she soon regretted when her father turned his gaze on her. “Surprise?” she offered weakly, casting her own gaze on the gleaming wooden floors of the hallway as she gripped Petyr’s hand in hopes of recovering stability in her mental faculties.

“How long?” Cat asked quietly, finally breaking the interminable silence.

“A few months,” Sansa said, still unable to lift her gaze.

Her father made a noise rather befitting of his costume and Sansa glanced up, startled. The fury in Ned’s countenance was building, and all of it was directed, not at her, but at Petyr. “What is wrong with you?” he snarled, taking a menacing step forward. “You couldn’t have Cat back when we were younger, so you chose to prey on her daughter? MY daughter?”

To his credit, Petyr didn’t quail under her father’s rage, though it might have been better for his health to do so. He met Ned’s gaze unflinchingly and when he spoke, his voice was calm and full of a confidence that helped soothe the anxiety fizzing in her veins. “My past affections for Cat have absolutely nothing to do with what I’ve found with Sansa.”

Ned snorted in disbelief, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Sansa might have fallen for such lies, but I know better,” he shot back through gritted teeth.

At that, Sansa felt her own anger flare. “Excuse me?” she demanded. “Are you really insinuating that I am incapable of taking care of myself? Of knowing when a man is lying to me just to get into my pants?”

Her father looked aghast, and not the least because she’d just basically admitted she wasn’t a virgin. He couldn’t seem to formulate a response, instead looking helplessly at his wife, who stepped in for his defense. “What he means, Sansa, is that sometimes there are things that blind us to the truth. It’s not a slight on your intelligence, but rather to point out that even the best of us can be fooled. You may believe him now, but your judgement is likely clouded by...by certain factors.” Cat spoke eloquently at first, then stumbled as she struggled with the concept that Sansa might either be attracted to or in love with Petyr (or both).

Sansa narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Go on, say it,” she goaded Cat. “Or do you honestly think that just because you never wanted him, that no one else could possibly do so?”

Cat gaped at her and Ned blanched, his skin turning blotchy as red and white fought for dominance, a war of anger and shame. Beside Sansa, Petyr twitched, just ever so slightly, and she turned to better assess his reaction, noting with disappointment that he’d managed to keep his emotions from filtering through as masterfully as ever. This would be easier if he wasn’t so unflappable. Misery might love company, but so did anger, and she’d have felt better and less self conscious to have him visibly furious beside her. 

“We’re two consenting adults, and we’re dating,” Sansa said firmly. “End of story. If you disagree with my choices, that’s your prerogative, but don’t for a second think that your disapproval will stop this. If this is indeed a mistake, which it isn’t, then it’s my mistake to make.” She paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “For the record though, neither of you know Petyr. Not like I do. And not once has he ever treated me as anyone other than my own person. To suggest otherwise, reflects badly on me as well as on him. That someone would only want me because I remind them of someone else.”

Petyr squeezed her hand as she finished, a silent show of solidarity. Her parents just stood there, expressions dumbfounded, both apparently incapable of speech. Sansa bit her lip, then turned to Petyr. “Come outside with me?” she asked. “I could use a bit of fresh air.”

He nodded, and together they left the halfway, heading for the back door, her parents still unmoving behind them, like they were merely statues standing silent vigil rather than human beings capable of so much more. Emotions had a way of robbing you of your senses, and it seemed that her parents had been petrified by the severe influx. Who knew that the biggest fright they would receive that night was the revelation that Sansa was dating Petyr?

Outside, the bonfire was still flickering merrily, though unattended. Sansa briefly wondered where Robb and Jeyne were before deciding she was grateful enough not to pry. After the extreme embarrassment of the past few minutes, she craved privacy and the space to reflect on what had happened. They sat together on the cushioned wicker loveseat stationed near the fire, and Sansa stared into the flames, barely registering at first as Petyr began to rub her back. As he kneaded her tense muscles, however, she slowly relaxed into his touch, sighing as his hands untangled the knots in her mind as well as in her back.

“Well that could have gone better,” she said shakily.

“I thought it went rather well, all things considering,” he replied quietly. “You did beautifully, sweetling.”

She sighed and turned, curling her legs up under her as she slipped into his arms, burying her face in his neck. The steady pulse she found there helped further soothe her frayed nerves, until she found the will to speak again. “You didn’t say much.”

“No, I didn’t,” Petyr said. “It was your battle today, not mine. Anything I might have said would have gone against our favor, regardless of what it was. Your parents weren’t in any condition to hear reason from my lips.”

Sansa saw the sense in his words, though she still wished he could have said more. It had felt as though she was alone in fighting for their relationship in that moment, despite how silly that notion was. This wasn’t the last of her battles with her parents over Petyr. She had no intentions of ending things, and her parents would stubbornly persist in their opinions as long as they could. Certainly, she wouldn’t always be alone in defending what they had. Right?

As though he knew her train of thought, he continued, words reassuring. “I promise you, they won’t be gifted with this reprieve for long. Whenever it isn’t more prudent to keep quiet, I’ll defend our relationship with everything I have. While it’s no skin off my back if they don’t want us together, I know how much your family means to you. You won’t be truly happy until they finally come to terms with this. And for that, I will do what I can to make things better.”

Sansa raised her head, meeting his gaze as the full weight of his words settled over her skin, cloaking it in warmth. Heedless of the danger it might pose if her parents came out and saw them, she leaned in and kissed Petyr, her lips turning upwards at the contact, the corners of his mouth mirroring hers. How could she have ever doubted him, truly? With every word and action, he showed her how much he cared. This would be a war, far from the first started by forbidden love, but, as long as they were fighting together, they’d come out victorious.

**Author's Note:**

> No smut this time, but I think you’ll like this regardless :). Also, both Petyr and Sansa are into geeky things like Star Wars, Doctor Who, etc and no one can tell me otherwise. After all, they both loved stories in canon. I think in modern au’s they’d be into fantasy and science fiction :D (even though Petyr would be less open about it later, try to repress that part of himself. Sansa would bring it back out though).


End file.
